Simple Deal

Four

I hunched my back, adding a slouch to my shoulders as though contracting my size, meanwhile allowing my emotions to run wild as hell. Hell!

My heart was running at such a fast pace that I wouldn't even be surprised if it leaped out of my chest the very next moment, because of God, I doubt a cheetah was even capable of chasing it, damn it!

Then again, I'd already be dead, how would I even feel surprised? Damn it, Beth, you and your logic are very messed up. At least it keeps the dread away, you ungrateful bitch. Scowling at myself like all the other times when my inner voice would kick my ass, I sighed.

But wait. . .

Dread.

Oh, shit!

"Beth?" I heard Mom call out with a hint of amusement behind her voice that made me snap out of everything I had previously thought of in my head; sending my eyelids flying up almost after a nanosecond. "Would you mind going into details about the deal you've made with Scooter?"

"Uh," I drawled on, trying to string up every possible word in my head to break it down to them. "Sure, but I'm still thinking about how I can say it smoothly. . . Please give me a moment."

And yes, this was definitely how formal we could ever get whenever we have something to discuss further—and trust me, it doesn't usually get to the point of exhilaration. Hell, it goes up to the next level of exasperation.

Managing to put together everything as a summary, I rubbed my thighs with the both of my palms to warm them up (at the same time drying my already dry palms). "Well, I was heading for the toilet last night when all of a sudden, a magazine publisher rang me up. So instead of entering the washroom, I stood outside and picked up his call.

"Just so happens, Mr. Braun overheard our conversation behind me, and then he came up to me, and we started having a small talk about it.

"Then he started saying that Justin was getting out of hand, and he concluded I wasn't a butt-kisser so if I'm willing to work with him to get Bieber to change his ways, he'd do me the biggest favor of my life, which would be finding me my favorite author to have my stories finally published into books!"

"What about your school?" Dad inquired from the side, making me clear my throat.

"Scooter's getting a college lecturer to school me while we're on the road or in the sky," I pursed my lips into a straight line, looking at my parents dead in the eyes, letting them know how I serious I am about this matter—and how serious I am about school even when I actually detest it all the way down to hell.

I needed their trust at the moment, and I know I'm currently damn well beginning to earn most of it.

"Okay, well, I'm going to give him a call later and discuss this further with him, okay?" Dad asked with a smile that calmed my nerves—I've never had to be too formal with him, because he hated it just as much as I did.